


One-way Ticket To Freedom

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe-ish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Deadlock never met Wing but instead bumbed into the Wreckers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Platform

**Author's Note:**

> The very beginning is from _Transformers: Drift Mini Series_.

“Betrayer.”

“You need me”, Deadlock spat, leaning closer to the towering mech despite he was held back by two other mechs.

“Like I need a disease”, Turmoil growled, making himself clear of being... displeased, to say the least with his SIC’s behavior. “You’re becoming increasingly reckless, desperate”, he added, charging his cannon and aiming for Deadlock’s head.

“I’m trying to win this war!” the smaller mech insisted, kicking the cannon to misfire the mech to his right, fighting himself free from the other’s grip.

Running towards the escape pod bay, he ignored Turmoil’s commands of ‘Stop him!’ to his troops, only one goal swirling in his mind; Get out of here. Now.

He was hit to his hip, though it didn’t slow him down – it only boosted his will to escape.

Finally arriving to the escape pod bay, Deadlock engaged one escape pod, his fingers dancing over the console as he tinkered with the protocols. Wincing at the hits to his shoulder, he dove in the pod, sparks flying from his injured body. But he didn’t care. What did he care about was he was out of there as soon the shutter of the pod closed, isolating him from the rapid fire.

_[INIATING EMERGENCY SYSTEM PROTOCOL]_

_[PROTOCOL COMPLETE]_

_[LAUNCHING IN 5...]_

_[4...]_

_[3...]_

Come on, come on!

_[2...]_

_[1... LAUNCH]_

The pod launched out, leaving the mechs helplessly stare as it flew further and further. Turmoil wasn’t going to be happy...

He was free. At last. Steering the pod, Deadlock was soon out of range of any possible fire and let a heavy sigh of relief through his vents. Where to now? Didn’t matter. As long as there wasn’t Decepticons _or_ Autobots around, he was satisfied.

\----

Travelling for countless days, the radar reported a planet nearby – might as well make an emergency landing there. Too bad these escape pods didn’t have a proper scanning equipment, only a radar for civilization. Well, that’ll have to do for now, fuel was running low, anyways.

The dark mech prepared for the emergency landing, keeping his optics on the closing surface. Once the pod hit the atmosphere, the friction caused the pod ablaze briefly, blinding Deadlock for a moment.

The pod took one hit – two hits before coming to halt, the fuselage sizzling as the heat began to ebb away. The shutter was launched off and Deadlock crawled out, only to come face to face with a muzzle of a gun. Tracking up the barrel, he saw a pair of bright blue optics staring back down at him. Soon he was surrounded by more mechs with the same hue of optics.

“Get up”, the mech in front of him commanded, the gun not budging, “And no tricks. You’ll get a hole in your head before you’d even stand up.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Autobots.

Scowling at the mech, Deadlock remained still as orders were given to capture him, his arms twisted behind his back and stasis cuffed, feeling the teeth of the gears in his shoulders grind against each other. The unit of Autobots put down their guns, save for two.

He was escorted to an Autobot ship and shoved in the brig, his arms still uncomfortably locked behind his back.

Out of the smelter into the fire. Great.

He felt the ship rumble and shiver beneath him and the ship took off. This wasn’t exactly what Deadlock had in mind for the concept of ‘being free’. He walked to far wall, sliding down against it, his knees bent. Whatever these wretched “peacemakers” were up to, he’d make sure he’d give them hard time doing it.

His body feeling heavy and tired, he fell into restless and light recharge, never really initiating any deeper recharge, his senses tuned up.

\----

“Wake up, Decepticon”, a harsh voice called in the cell, bouncing painfully in the metal walls.

Deadlock’s optics flew open, instantly shooting up a deadly glower to the mech. He was tall and massive, just like Turmoil, the gaze from the lime green visor burying through the Decepticon’s armor.

“Move it”, the Autobot boomed, poking Deadlock with his gun.

The dark mech rose to his feet and was walked out of the cell and into an elevator. The mech next to him kept his visor ahead, though Deadlock was fully aware that if he tried something, he’d end up having a blast hole through his chest, so... Behave, it is.

The elevator stopped its climbing and the doors opened. They had arrived to a lobby full of Autobots, the optics turning to him, measuring him, taking their time on the insignia on his chest. He recognized those glances; scorn, a hint of fear and some kind of respect. He gave each mech in the room a scowl of his own, noting some of them turned away. Hmph. Weaklings. Every one of ‘em. Don’t have the guts to take the challenge.

Roadbuster nudged him in the back with the butt of his gun to continue walking. Not much of a choice here; he was their prisoner and POWs didn’t have a word while in captivity.

It took some time until the Autobot signaled to Deadlock to stop, already punching a code to the console of the door. The door slid aside and they walked in.

“Perceptor, you have a mech to patch up”, Roadbuster’s voice called for the mech.

A red mech appeared from another room, holding a datapad he was engulfed by when he saw Roadbuster and a smaller mech beside him. That Decepticon the others had captured not too long ago. His optics – or rather, one optic; the other was replaced with a reticle – travelled down and back up again over Deadlock’s body which he found annoying to say the least.

Gesturing the duo to come in, Perceptor put the pad down, turning to his console.

“I’ll be watching you, ‘con”, the massive mech warned Deadlock as the dark mech took a seat on the exam slab, opening the stasis cuffs.

The Decepticon’s hip and shoulder ached, the hip joint groaning as he sat.

Perceptor walked to Deadlock to inspect the damages on the dark shoulder, his scope whirring in and out of focus. “Wires and circuitry burned... Nothing too severe”, he mumbled as he turned his attention to the hip. “Lay down.”

Deadlock did as was told reluctantly, irritated to have Autobot hands fondling his hip.

“Rotation gears have suffered worse than your shoulder. Why were you shot to critical points?” the scientist asked, his voice firm but soft.

“Does it matter?”

“It does, actually. Or did you plan to be crippled? That gear in your hip won’t endure much more strain as it is. If you want to be able to walk, I suggest you cooperate with me”, Perceptor stated, leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. Whatever”, the dark mech huffed, keeping his optics on the opposite wall, though his gaze wandered around the room until he spotted a rifle sitting in the corner. “That a sniper rifle?” he asked.

The red mech lifted his optics from the hip he was repairing. “Yes. A .50 caliber. It would punch a clean hole right through you. I think that’s all you should know.”

“So you’re a sharp shooter? Bet you’ve picked one or two of us with that”, Deadlock smirked, jerking his head at the rifle.

Perceptor took a glance at the other then shrugged. “I’ve had my fair share. The others tend to be more... competitive about the number of kills they make”, he admitted.

“You’re not?”

“I don’t particularly enjoy taking others’ lives but I’ll do what I must to stay alive.” A stone-cold truth.

Deadlock shrugged at that, falling mute.

\----

Deadlock was returned back to his cell once Perceptor was done with his hip and shoulder, Roadbuster shoving him in.

He was grateful for the stasis cuffs had been removed, allowing him to lie down comfortably on the berth mounted to the wall. Or it was more of a slab rather than a berth but it would do for now. As long as it stayed attached to the wall, the Decepticon was satisfied.

Feeling his body exhausted, Deadlock fell into recharge once again – hopefully this time he’d be given peace to recharge enough.

Stirring in recharge, the dark mech could hear footsteps echoing, coming closer. Not bothering to turn, he stayed facing the wall. The low hum of the glowing bars got louder, Deadlock was sure of it as the mech came to stand behind them. Blue optics studied the lying mech, the dark, broad back, the legs, the finials... The intense stare digging through his plating.

Finally, the mech left, leaving Deadlock alone. He ex-vented with a huff, not realizing he had shut his vents. Recharge took over again, his ventilation calming down.

\----

Deadlock noticed the routine; early in the morning, there’d be a mech watching him. Four hours later; again an Autobot outside his cell. Yet another four hours; there he is. In the evening; the same thing. Day after day. He wondered if the pattern was kept on going during the nights.

Apparently, this was the Autobot way of keeping an optic on their prisoner. Didn’t they have security cameras and monitors for that?

Also, the Decepticon came to realize that these mechs kept bringing him energon. Not that he’d touched it but... What was going on here?

\----

Days passed – Deadlock had no idea how many – and one day he felt his tanks churn painfully, alarms blaring in his HUD. There were empty cubes of energon on the floor, contents splattered on the wall. He wasn’t going to feed on energon given by Autobots.

Ignoring all warnings, he initiated emergency stasis, his systems blacking out.

Almost immediately that bright green mech, Springer, appeared outside the cell. “Wake up, Decepticon. It’s time for your check-up”, he called behind the bars.

When he got no reply and the dark mech stayed still, he unlocked the door and went in. He noticed the cubes and an uncomfortable feeling wormed inside him. Shaking the dark spaulder, the Autobot tried to wake him up. Still no response.

He shook a little firmer and the Decepticon slumped on the floor, limp and unconscious.

Frag!

“I need help in the brig! Now!” he shouted to his communicator on his forearm while pulling Deadlock to lie on his back for better transport.

Sandstorm and Topspin came running to the brig and hoisted him up; Sandstorm wrapped his arms around Deadlock’s chest and the blue mech took the legs.

“How’s he so light?” the yellow mech asked as he and Topspin started carrying the Decepticon to the elevator with Springer ahead.

“I saw empty cubes but apparently this guy just threw the energon away and didn’t consume any”, Springer explained, his tone collected.

The lift jerked and began to climb towards upper levels.

“So... why are we doing this?” Topspin asked after a moment of silence as the elevator came to a stop and the door slid aside.

To that, the triple changer didn’t answer and lead the other two Wreckers to Perceptor’s lab.

Entering the lab, Sandstorm and Topspin lowered the dark mech on a berth and left. Springer stayed and looked for the scientist. “Perceptor! Stop whatever you’re doing and get your aft here!” he yelled.

“All right, all right. Don’t burn your diodes”, the red mech walked from his office and his optics landed on the mech lying on the berth. “What did he do?”

“What he _didn’t_ do. This idiot didn’t take the energon we offered him”, the green mech snapped, folding his arms over his chest.

Perceptor sighed and went to fetch three energon pouches, connectors and drip hoses. That’ll do for now, he thought as he walked back to Deadlock. Hanging up the pouches, he jabbed the giving set to the one of them and squeezed the pouch to make sure energon filled the small chamber.

After checking there were no bubbles in the hose and he was satisfied with the flow, the scientist opened a small hatch on the Decepticon’s forearm, revealing three ports that lead to different lines. He attached the connector to the hose and carefully clicked it into the port.

Springer followed the procedure, though wincing a little when the connector was sunk to the port. “Will those three pouches be enough for a mech his size?” he asked.

“I’ll monitor his energon levels. It might take more than three pouches of energon to reach his optimal levels – though it was his luck you happened to arrive to the brig. His systems fell into emergency stasis just before that”, Perceptor said as he read through Deadlock’s records and system reports. “His tank and fuel pump and systems were practically corroding themselves in order to function.”

“Apparently this guy wanted to starve himself to death.”

Perceptor fell silent and continued reading.

“Anyway, report to me if anything occurs”, the leader said and exited the lab.

Once alone, the red mech ceased reading and turned to look at Deadlock. Examining his features closer, Perceptor could see the dents and deep scuffs scattered all over his body, including head, the busted lip that had been repaired at some point but the workmanship was poor; sharp edges and signs of the delicate plating splitting open again. He’s tried to repair all those injuries by himself?

He also noticed a crack on the lens of the right optic, right at the corner. Also his hands were covered in old dents and deep scratches. This mech has taken beatings for a long time.

Deadlock stirred, his body aching and feeling like he had been thrashed around like an immobile drone. He had no strength to even lift his hand to his face to rub it.

Perceptor stood next to the berth and stared at him. “Welcome back, Deadlock.”

The dark mech rebooted his optics a few times before they managed to light up, tilting his head to the direction of that voice. “What... what happened?” he asked, his voice gruffer than normal.

“You fell into emergency stasis for neglecting proper fueling”, the other mech explained, picking up a pad to which he had downloaded all Deadlock’s information. “It might be the best I give you additives...” he murmured to himself and retreated to his office to make calculations about how much additives and minerals Deadlock would need.

The Decepticon uttered a low whimper because of his situation. Oh, how much he wanted to be shot right now!

Exhaustion taking over his body, Deadlock fell into recharge, the bleeping noises around him fading gradually.


	2. Climb aboard, please

The crew was gathered in the bridge of their ship, Springer briefing them about the recent events.

“So what do we do with that Decepticon now that he’s onboard?” Whirl asked.

The triple-changer straightened himself and cycled a deep breath. “Although he is a Decepticon, he’s still a Cybertronian just like us. I’d say we give him a chance.”

“WHAT?” the rest of the crew shouted, optics wide open staring at their leader.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Ironfist shrieked, throwing his arms up.

“How can you even say that? We’re Wreckers! We kill ‘cons!” Guzzle added his opinion.

“I say we either dump that Decepticon out the disposal unit to the closest black hole or be merciful and shoot him right away”, Twin Twist snarled, his trigger finger feeling itchy.

Kup slammed his hands down on the table, immediately earning everyone’s attention. “Enough! You sound like ‘cons! We’re Autobots and we don’t kill our prisoners. We’re better than those savage brutes. I’m with Springer.” With that, the old-timer inhaled from his cy-gar and blew a puff of smoke through his vents.

Springer nodded at Kup. Although the triple-changer was the leader now, he still respected Kup’s words. After all, the old mech was his predecessor and had taught him everything about being a Wrecker and a leader.

“All right. This is settled. No one will harm the Decepticon and no one will take action against him without my word unless he initiates conflict. Dismissed.”

\----

Perceptor had listened to the conversation via his console. Deadlock had woken up once and lost his consciousness right after during that. The starvation had been hard to his body, it seems.

With the second energon pouch emptying, the red mech changed to the last pouch and checked the Decepticon’s energon levels. It’ll take one more pouch after the third one to reach the optimal levels. So be it.

The scientist was about to return to his work when he heard a whimper behind his back. Taking a look at the dark mech, he saw that the other mech was having a bad memory feedback, his body convulsing from the resurfacing emotions and physical trauma.

Walking to stand beside the berth, Perceptor placed his hand on the dirty gray crown on the mech’s forehead. It felt hot. The red optics snapped open, blazing and filled with panic. A dark hand grabbed Perceptor’s wrist and squeezed. Hard.

The Autobot gasped both sudden pain and fright, trying to pry his wrist from the iron grip.

As if sensing the flare of fear in Perceptor’s field, Deadlock let go as quickly as he had gripped the wrist. The red mech retreated a good ten meters and held his wrist, massaging it until the pain ebbed away. His optics stared wide open, vents whirring.

Huffing, Deadlock settled back on his back slowly, keeping his glance on the Autobot as the strain from the sudden movement caused his body to ache all over again.

How are they’re going to continue from here?

\----

“Is it okay with you?” Springer asked Perceptor, though his gaze on the Decepticon who watched the two Autobots having a hushed conversation across the room.

“Yes”, was the short reply.

The green mech nodded in understanding and walked to Deadlock. “Can I have a word with you, Deadlock?”

The other mech kept his mouth shut.

“I talked with Perceptor just now”, he started, pausing to get the Decepticon’s attention, “and we decided that you’d work under him. I’ve come to known that you have a comprehensive knowledge about weapons.”

Deadlock’s expression twitched at the words ‘work under him’. “I don’t work for Autobots”, he spat and shot his deadliest scowl at the Autobot.

“I thought you’d say that. However, you have exactly two options. One; you repair our weapons or two; you languish in the brig from undefined time. Your choice. Perceptor already agreed to this.”

The dark mech cursed in his head. It was strictly against his training and ideology to help Autobots in any way. They were at _war_! Then again... he had to have something to do with his hands. Otherwise he’d die of boredom.

“What else choice do I have?” he finally growled.

“None. It’s either or. If you are to choose to work under Perceptor’s supervision, you’ll get your daily rations of energon and a hab suite from the lab”, Springer announced, his voice indicating it all was decided despite of Deadlock’s words.

Venting a sigh, Deadlock accepted the offer, no matter how much it hurt his ego. Once he’d be let out of the lab/medbay, he was ought to start his new job immediately, whether he liked it or not.

\----

“This shall be your work station. I expect it to be kept organized and clean”, the scientist introduced Deadlock his work station.

The work station was on the other side of the lab but still in the range of Perceptor’s sight. There were tools the Decepticon recognized; oils, a welder, screwdrivers of different sizes, and whatnots and spare parts neatly on the wall and some in boxes stacked on the table in code order.

“You may start working. Weapons that need repairing are in that box”, Perceptor pointed a large container set beside the table. “Those are weapons I haven’t had the time to start working on but I hope you’ll get back up and running”, he explained and went to his own station to continue whatever he had under work.

It had been about two and a half weeks until the dark mech was completely recovered from his injuries and energon deprivation – he had no idea he was in _that_ bad condition – and during that time he had the opportunity to learn pretty much everything there was in the lab. Including the mech who worked there. He had to admit the red mech wasn’t that bad looking – at least he was better to look at than the ugly mugs in the Decepticon ranks he had had to stare at every day. That much was an improvement.

Picking up a rather suffered rifle, the dark mech settled to work. He disassembled the rifle quickly, and checked the damages; a fracture along the barrel, a missing slide, a chip of metal jammed in the magazine release and broken trigger. Not a huge job but it’ll take time to repair the fracture and the broken trigger had to be replaced. Plus, he had to do all the other basic maintenances.

Deadlock was so immersed by his work he didn’t notice the pair of blue optics looking at his way, following the movement of his hands and fingers. Perceptor smiled faintly at how the Decepticon had practically forgotten the surrounding world; the concentrated look on the dark gray face was... endearing in a way, dared he say. To see a mech of opposite faction so at ease.

That atmosphere fell flat when Whirl came busting in.

“Yo, Perc! Ya got a minute?”

The scientist turned to face the blue Wrecker. “Not really but I guess you don’t care about that, do you?” His voice was almost monotone, edged with irritation for being interrupted from his work.

“Nah. Hey, listen. Can ya repair my gun? It’s acting up again”, the blue mech shoved his favorite plasma gun in front of Perceptor’s face, only getting it pushed away.

“I’m not on duty to repair weaponry at the moment but Deadlock is.”

Upon hearing his name, the dark mech lifted his head to see Whirl marching quite reluctantly towards him and placed the gun gently on the table. “Now listen carefully, Decepticon”, he hissed, stressing the word ‘Decepticon’, “You get my gun repaired and if I spot _one single_ scratched part, you end up having more holes than a practicing target. Got that?”

Deadlock merely stared back at Whirl, his optics a dull dark red. Taking the gun to inspect it, he saw more scratches than the actual protecting paint that once covered the surface.

Without a word, he got to work, starting by disassembling the gun.

The blue mech stood tall there, not budging. And it started getting on Deadlock’s nerves.

“Would you kindly move away and stand elsewhere?” he seethed quietly, clenching his teeth.

Seemingly, his words did nothing and he was about to bash Whirl’s head in when Perceptor called from behind his fellow Wrecker. “Whirl, please. Give him working peace. He won’t break your gun.”

The Decepticon gave a slightly baffled glance at the red Autobot but returned to his work right away. Right. A dislodged safety catch. Nothing more. Whirl should’ve known that.

Whirl paced nervously back and forth, not taking his bright yellow optic off of Deadlock as if waiting the other mech would do something rash and reckless.

The dark mech finished the gun and left it on the edge of the table. “There. Good as new”, he rumbled, already back to his previous task. “Go test it if you don’t believe me.”

Whirl took the gun and scanned it for any signs of mischief or for Primus’ sake! scratches. Once satisfied, he scurried to the test range. Cycling a sigh of relief, Deadlock finally managed to fully pay attention to the rifle on the table, to continue fixing the barrel.

\----

At the end of the day, Deadlock had repaired the full container of rifles, machine guns (both automatic and semi-automatic), guns and pistols. The scientist was impressed; he hadn’t seen anyone repair such an amount of weaponry in a half a day.

“Shall we call it a day?” Perceptor said as he stood up, stretching his back and arms, shoulders popping back into place.

The Decepticon cleaned his hands from the oils and threw the cloth into a disposal unit. Tilting his head from side to side, he groaned as his neck cracked oh, so deliciously. His shoulders felt stiff for all the stationary work and rolled them several times. When ready, he fetched a cube of energon and disappeared to his hab suite without a word... which was surprisingly cozy; a single berth, a small berthside table, a floor-to-ceiling window, the walls plain and simple, the slabs and rivets visible.

Just the way he liked. Just the way it was back on... Turmoil’s ship...

He placed the cube on the table and sat on the berth, burying his face in his hands. All of a sudden, he grabbed the cube and flung it to the wall, the glass shattering and energon splattering on the wall and eventually running down the wall and on the floor.

His attempts to focus his thoughts and sort them out were futile and in the end, proved to be very impossible.

Why?

A question no one couldn’t answer, Deadlock himself the least.

Slumping down on the berth, he closed his optics, rolling to his side. He retreated to the back of his mind and tried to isolate himself from his current situation.

\----

The Autobot was already working when Deadlock appeared from his hab suite and took his morning ration. Downing the energon with three gulps, he walked to his station, seeing the container empty. Now what?

“There aren’t any weapons to repair, I’m afraid, but I guess you’ll come up with something else to do. Though, you are forbidden to leave the laboratory. Without an escort, that is, and I don’t have time to show you around”, Perceptor said. “On the other hand, I could call someone to–”

“Whatever”, Deadlock grunted, scuffing over to the scrap bin. He rummaged through the bin, looking for surplus that could be turned into something useful.

After a while of searching and not finding anything, he tossed the scrap metal he had gathered back to the bin with a frustrated huff and sat at his work station.

A few seconds of silence began to get on Deadlock’s nerves until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you working on?”

The Autobot didn’t answer right away for he had to type down the result of his most recent calculations. “Calculations of a mineral we harvested from this planet. It’s not much but I do everything I can so we can benefit from it.”

“You seem to like your job.”

Perceptor lifted his gaze from the pad to look at Deadlock, small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Of course I do. I live for science.”

The Decepticon grunted again, though dropping off the conversation. Science wasn’t in his best interests. Instead, he slumped down on the table, his forehead resting on his forearms and cycled a huff.

The gears in the red mech’s head started spinning, not able to focus on his work anymore.

“What... would you say if I showed you around the ship?” he suggested, putting the pads away after saving the information.

The red optics met with his blue ones, a glint of curiosity shining in them.

A shrug. “Something to do at least, I guess.”

Wait a minute... Did he just agree the Autobot took him on a tour around the ship? Since when did Deadlock agree to _anything_? Let alone to something suggested by a member of the opposite faction? This imprisonment was getting on his sanity...


	3. Ticket inspection!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I call the "meh-chapter".

“And this is the lounge where we spend time and have our breaks during shifts. I was informed by Springer that you are welcome to walk around the ship with one condition; you must have an escort. After all, we don’t trust you and I believe the feeling is mutual”, the Autobot went on, gesturing Deadlock to enter the lounge. “And until further notice, I am your supervisor and escort.”

The dark mech wasn’t allowed to the weapons and ammunition storage for obvious reasons.

“Do you have any questions?” the Autobot asked as they came to a halt at the entrance of the lounge.

Deadlock shook his head. He just wanted to retreat to his humble hab suite and be alone. So far, Perceptor has been the nicest to him out of this bunch and Whirl the worst. Kup was... tolerable and the rest were... well, let’s just say that the Decepticon didn’t like them.

The old-timer walked into the lounge to have a cubeful.

“Evenin’ Perceptor”, he greeted the younger mech and nodded at the other youngster who returned the favor with a scowl.

“Good evening, sir”, Perceptor replied.

“No need to be so formal, lad. We’re all off-shift, aren’t we”, the teal mech chuckled and took a cube and filled it.

“I’m sorry. Old habits run deep, I guess.”

Kup waved it off and sipped from his cube. “So how’s that project of yours fairing?” he asked while slumping on the couch, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“It’s... proceeding rather well, actually. We were able to get a good sample and I’ve got some results of its features”, the scientist said, “Though, I still have a lot of work to do.”

The older mech grunted approvingly at that and turned his attention to the mech behind Perceptor. “Hey, lad. Let’s talk.”

The sudden command of sorts took Deadlock by surprise. “Talk?”

“Yes. Talk.” Kup sounded like he was being serious. He wanted to chat with a Decepticon?

The dark mech crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his weight on other leg, his hips tilting a little to the left. “All right. Let’s talk”, he said, making air quotes at the word ‘talk’ with his fingers.

Kup patted the couch with his hand once – a strong slam, actually – nearly spilling his energon on his lap. “Sit your aft down, lad. I don’t talk to people who stand while I sit. Don’t force an old-timer to get on his tired and worn feet.”

Deadlock rolled his optics at that. “Like I care”, he snorted but sat down next to Kup nonetheless, though as far away as he could from the walking rust bucket. “Spit it out.”

“Who are you, Deadlock?”

“Wh-what?”

“Who are you really?”

Kup’s intense gaze nailed Deadlock to place, the younger mech unable to leave. The stare was uncomfortable and it was making him uneasy. The dark mech squirmed a little, wringing his hands nervously. “Wh-what’s it to you?!” he finally blurted, his optics burning dangerously.

“I want to know the _real_ Deadlock, not the Decepticon Deadlock but the _Cybertronian_ Deadlock. I’ve seen your information and medical records from your time as a Decepticon. I’m interested to know who you were before the Decepticons.”

The old mech settled comfortably on the couch, his posture relaxed, and waited for Deadlock to being to speak.

The youngster just stared at Kup, shooting daggers, though his mind tried to come up with something that would get him out of there. And that Perceptor was still there... Frag!

Out of all subjects, Deadlock wanted to talk about his past the _least_. He took a quick sideways glance at the Autobot standing just a little to his left, behind him. No running away from this, huh. Very well. So be it.

“You wanna learn about my past, old timer?”

A confirming nod.

“Pheh.”

And so Deadlock told. Everything. Everything about being a gutter-rat. A Syk addict – a junkie. Turmoil’s second-in-command. He told how he still smelled the stench of the Under City, how he still felt the grime sticking and jamming your joints until you could barely move. How he was forced to sell his own body for a ridiculous amount of energon.

How he had no life to begin with.

During the time he told Kup about his life, the young mech had this smile on his face. Filled with spite. The guffaw that occasionally escaped Deadlock’s lips was dark, edged with a growl.

By the time Deadlock finished his life story, the teal mech sat, seemingly unaffected by the Decepticon’s past.

“We done?” the dark mech asked impatiently.

Kup gave a dismissing wave of a hand, gulping the last drops of his energon and stood up. “It’s good we had this conversation”, he said gruffly.

“Conversation? I did all the talking”, Deadlock snapped.

“And I listened. Conversations aren’t always about two individuals sharing words. I did my part in here”, he replied and tapped at his head.

Snorting and rolling his optics, Deadlock retrieved himself a cubeful and swallowed the energon in one go. Kup and Perceptor shared a few words before the scientist bid the older mech good night and came next to the Decepticon.

They walked to their hab suites in silence, the Autobot apparently a little shaken by Deadlock’s history.

“You’ve had quite a past”, he said, his voice soft and deep.

“Are you pitying me?” was the snarly reply.

To that, Perceptor said nothing.

\----

Deadlock felt so vulnerable and naked and exposed after “talking” with Kup. Why did he tell the old-timer so much about his past? And Perceptor heard it all... Rubbing his face, the dark mech sighed and slid down the wall on his aft, pulling his knees to chest. His life was messed up. He himself was messed up.

His hab suite was dark and silent, save for the red mech arranging and cleaning the lab, the faint clinking of test tubes and E-flasks very much audible, the muffled clattering of datapads being stacked hammering in Deadlock’s audios.

Covering his audios, the Decepticon uttered a quiet growl, his fingers gripping his head.

So messed up...

\----

The following weeks were testing Deadlock, for sure.

These Autobots around him... Others seemed to ignore him but others gave him attention. The bad kind and Whirl was the worst.

The ‘copter would make shooting sounds every time the dark mech walked past him and if he happened to see, Whirl aimed the barrel of an imaginary gun at him and pretended shooting him. It took all of Deadlock’s will power no to make his silent threats come true.

‘One day that Autobot wishes he was never born.’

‘Next thing he knows he’ll be standing at the gates of Pit.’

‘I’ll impale that head and make it an emblem ornament for this ship.’

Other mechs on board did side Whirl but some tried to turn it down a notch or two. Lucky for them.

Then there was Perceptor. The scientist was bearable company and... he was nice to Deadlock. Not once did he say something that would insult him or trigger anything. And over the time, the Decepticon has had the opportunity to come to know him. To explore what kind of personality was hidden underneath the logical and stoic appearance.

Too bad Deadlock hadn’t been as fair towards the red mech. The truth was that Decepticons didn’t show their emotions to anybody. Showing emotions meant weakness and weak equaled dead. You just didn’t tell anyone about your feelings. Simple as that. Period.

But Deadlock wasn’t among Decepticons now, was he.

If there was one thing he enjoyed while being here, it was working with Perceptor and hearing Kup’s stories about the good ol’ times. And that’s pretty much it. There weren’t many things Deadlock liked here. Though, the energon might’ve been a tad better than what Decepticons had...

Springer had granted Deadlock more rights, such as not needing to have an escort while walking around the ship. That eased the burden off from Perceptor’s shoulders; one task less to interrupt his work. Though, it didn’t stop the dark mech from asking him if the Autobot could take him here or there.

If you took a very close look, you could see a very small seed of fondness growing between the Decepticon and the scientist, spreading its fragile roots towards the two mechs.

From time to time, Deadlock still wished he was anywhere else than here or back to Turmoil. Anywhere else was good.

\----

Deadlock was repairing Roadbuster’s cannon as it wasn’t working properly. According to the orange mech, there was a shard of metal for there was chinking noise somewhere deep within the mechanisms.

The cannon had been taken apart and sure enough, there was a shard, the size of Deadlock’s pinkie finger stuck in the hammer. The shard was removed it and cannon was assembled back together and he sent Roadbuster a message to retrieve the cannon and take it for a test shot.

Once the Wrecker had fetched his beloved cannon, the Decepticon collected himself from the floor. “I’m going for a walk”, he informed after putting away his tools.

Perceptor waved him in understanding, not taking his full attention away from his current project.

Slipping out of the lab, Deadlock cycled a sigh of relief. Finally some peace. Rotating his shoulders, the mech walked down the corridor, not really caring where he’d end up. Though, his moment of peace was shattered by Whirl running towards him, holding something.

“Quick, Locky!” the blue mech shouted and tossed a lump in Deadlock’s arms. A lump that ticked and whirred.

Deadlock flung the bomb after Whirl but it went off in midair, way too close to the Decepticon. The shockwave knocked him down, his body landing on the floor with a heavy thud. The Wrecker seemed unharmed for his cackling echoed in the corridor.

The dark mech’s audios rang and then went deaf, the red lenses in his optics shattered and they hurt. He didn’t register Perceptor or any other member of the crew dashing to him, all movements in slow mo. His HUD went ballistic with blaring warnings of ruptured fuel intake, shattered optical and audial sensors, destroyed equilibrioception systems... He was going to kill Whirl...

When Perceptor knelt down to inspect the damage, Deadlock spewed a mouthful of energon both from his tank and fuel lines in front of him. The energon burnt the ruptured fuel intake, scorching the fresh opening along the tube, causing the dark mech to groan in pain, his body twitching slowly, the energon gurgling and bubbling in his throat.

His right optic failed, the light fading away, leaving him half blind. The throbbing in his head wouldn’t stop and the mechs around him still moved as if in a slowed video feed. Perceptor and the others spoke in muffled voice, or so it sounded to Deadlock as he was carried to the lab once again. Just like when Deadlock decided to starve himself to death.

\----

“–f your optics.”

What?

Clearly, Deadlock hadn’t heard what the red mech had said.

“I said, I’m sorry I had to change the color of your optics. Red low key optics don’t belong to our stock.”

Oh, right. No wonder the environment seemed to be brighter and more saturated.

Perceptor came to the dark mech and brought a small light to his face, switching it on. The optics reacted expectedly, cycling down to reduce the aperture. Humming in approval, the scientist pulled back and wrote the result down. “Your equilibrioception systems were destroyed by the shockwave and I was able to do only so much as locate the damaged area – I don’t have the skills or the equipment to perform a proper repair operation. It’ll take time for them to be fully operative again. Until your self-repair has done its job, you’ll be having difficulties to stay upright. I suggest you take it easy and let someone be your supportive assist during that time. What I _was_ able to repair was your fuel intake tube.”

That was a lot of words and Deadlock only heard a word here and there. His head still throbbed and his chest stung as if someone had force fed him acid, making it hard to focus on Perceptor. Without thinking, he reached for the black hand, failing to grasp the whole hand but instead managed to hook the scientist’s ring and pinkie finger.

The Autobot stared at his hand as it was brought up to one of Deadlock’s finials, the fingers brushing briefly the finial. What Perceptor didn’t expect was that this Decepticon relaxed, a sigh escaping through his vents.

Taking the hint, the red mech started stroking slowly the base of the finial. That’s when the dark mech broke into purring, although the purr was faint and barely registered but it was there, the weak vibrations rumbling from his engine.

Deadlock’s brand new optics slipped closed but the purring continued.

After some time Perceptor snapped out of the moment by taking his hand away rather quickly and that startled Deadlock a little.

“I shall leave you to rest. Call me if you need anything”, the scientist said hastily.

With that, the red mech left Deadlock alone, his mind processing all what just happened.

Oh, Whirl was so dead.


	4. A Passenger

“Steady, steady”, Kup encouraged the Decepticon as he took a few shaky steps, his arm over the teal mech’s shoulder. “You’re doing great. Slow, even steps.”

Deadlock’s legs buckled and his knees nearly gave in, his hands automatically searching for support.

“I got ya, lad”, the older mech said, tightening his hold on the youngster.

It had been a week now and the dark mech’s equilibrioception systems weren’t working properly yet. Whirl had faced his punishment for carrying live explosives, causing damage to the ship, causing a dangerous scene and attacking an unarmed mech, and was now spending his time scribbling on the walls of a cell. Springer had been fair to Deadlock – it was the least he could do. After all, the triple-changer didn’t tolerate any harm inflicted on anyone on this blasted ship, whether the victim was from his team or not.

Plus, his optics tended to glitch out occasionally, blurring his vision. Like they did right now. The dark mech swayed and Kup wasn’t strong enough to keep him upright.

“I... I don’t feel well”, the Decepticon admitted while trying to get up on his own, failing utterly, tasting the bitter, acrid tang at the back of his throat. Lucky for him, there was no one else besides Kup with him. If the world just stopped spinning...

The teal mech helped him to stand. “All right. Let’s get you to berth, then.”

The Autobot walked Deadlock back to his hab suite. The moment the younger mech was on his berth, he covered his aching optics with his forearm.

“I’ll inform Perceptor you’re off duty for the rest of the day.”

Deadlock thanked Kup silently as the old-timer dismissed himself, switching off the lights.

As the old mech left Deadlock’s hab suite, Perceptor was standing at his work station. “How is he?” he asked, holding a datapad. Apparently he had heard them enter the lab.

“He complained of bad feeling. He looked like he was about to throw up. Poor lad.” Kup was serious about his words. “Hopefully he’ll get well soon”, he added and exited the lab. Even though Deadlock was an enemy, Kup had become rather fond of him. Perhaps he saw his younger self in the youngster with all his stubbornness and take-no-slag-from-anyone attitude. Wouldn’t be news if he took the Decepticon under his wing in the future.

Perceptor arranged his pads before retiring to his hab suite. He peered carefully in Deadlock’s – the light from the lab illuminating the otherwise dark space – and saw the other mech recharging, sound asleep, gentle snoring indicating he was indeed in deep recharge. Smiling, the red mech closed the door as quietly as he could and went to recharge, too.

\----

Deadlock was having a cube of energon when he spotted Springer walk in.

“Where’s the brig?” Deadlock asked, sipping the last drops of his ration as the Autobot fetched one for himself.

“On the lowest deck. Why?”

Without a word, the dark mech left the lounge and stepped in the lift, pressing the button that would take him to the brig deck.

Once the door slipped closed, Deadlock casted his gaze on the floor. His vision didn’t glitch anymore and overall his body both in- and outside had recovered from the incident with the bomb. Oh yeah... that was two weeks ago. Damn, how time flies by.

The lift binged and the door opened again. It led Deadlock to a dimly lit corridor that had cells on the left side. And in the very last cell had Whirl, the Autobot sitting on the slab, scribbling on the wall with his right pinchers.

“Why’d you come?” he asked, not taking his single golden optic off his scribble.

Deadlock remained silent and instead took a gun out of subspace in his right thigh, charging it up. The blue mech turned around as he heard the familiar click and whirr, to see a gun aimed at him.

“I won’t miss at this distance.”

“How did you smuggle a gun here?”

To that, the dark mech didn’t answer.

Whirl stared at Deadlock and vice versa, completely motionless. The Decepticon would’ve pulled the trigger. One little move and he’d be flying out the air lock.

But he didn’t. He put the gun away and left.

\----

Four months. Four whole months had passed by. Four months of being onboard a ship full of Autobots. And... to be honest, life wasn’t so bad. The Wreckers had more or less accepted the fact they had a Decepticon amongst them. Deadlock didn’t miss the time on Turmoil’s cruiser. At all.

The implicit agreement between Deadlock and Whirl had kept so far which was a relief to everyone, mostly to Springer. Perceptor seemed to be pleased by this fact, too. The way he’d look at Deadlock from time to time... Just quick glances – the dark mech wouldn’t notice.

The scientist was hunched over his work station again, completely focused on his work when the Decepticon walked in. Perceptor wouldn’t have any idea the other mech was present if he wouldn’t have felt the faint lick against his EM field. Faint but still there, pulsating with... arousal?! He pretented he was focused on his current task and hadn’t felt anything.

The sensation was over as soon as Deadlock walked past him and into his own hab suite, the door locked closed.

Deadlock released a tense ex-vent, his sensornet tingling. Why he’d be so aroused? All he did was think about that red mech in the lab while he was having a cubeful in the lounge. He sat down on the edge of his berth, leaning back on his arms. Without realizing, his other hand rose to his finial, massaging it gently, a sigh hissing through his vents. A click and his spike jutted between his thighs, demanding attention.

He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, involuntarily imagining certain Autobot sealing his lips around the tip and easing the spike in his mouth. A breathy sigh escaped his lips as Deadlock increased the pressure along the length, pumping, milking.

Flopping on his back, the dark mech gripped the edge of the berth while his hips bucked up, his imaginary partner taking him in deeper and faster. His thighs quivered, his legs rising on toeplates, lifting his hips off the berth more. Mouth hanging open, Deadlock quickened his pace, the slick sounds so very loud in otherwise so silent room. He had a slight fear of someone hearing him but when the first ripples of approaching overload surged through him, his worries flew out the window.

His hand was getting more and more slick, the palm and fingers sliding easier over the ridges and seams with every stroke, fluids forming a sticky puddle on the berth between his thighs.

“Perceptor...!” he whimpered, a shameless groan escaping his vocalizer as he felt a rolling push behind the base of his spike, transfluids erupting from the slit and down the shaft, over his fingers and on his pelvis.

Vents whirring and whining, Deadlock’s messy hand fell on his pelvis, his spike slack and seemingly satisfied. He vented deeply couple of times before pulling himself up to sit properly. Rubbing his clean hand over his face, the dark mech huffed and grabbed a cleaning cloth from the drawer of his berthside table.

Once done cleaning himself, Deadlock checked his chronometer. Already an evening. Might as well go to recharge.

Perceptor on the other side of the locked door had his optics wide open, taken aback at what he had just heard. He lifted his hand on his mouth to keep any noises down. Backing away from the door as he feared Deadlock might come out, the red mech went to finish arranging his work station but the task proved to be difficult because of the slight tremble in his hands.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to eavesdrop...

To hear a mech from the enemy faction self-servicing while imagining him, Perceptor, being there was actually quite... disturbing, although flattering. He had admitted himself Deadlock was handsome and had stunning features. Especially those spiky finials he had dreamt of touching and caressing. Perhaps even kissing and licking, nipping them.

Abandoning those kinds of thoughts, Perceptor disappeared to his hab suite and let go of the worries of today.

\----

“Since I’ve never fired a sniper rifle, I’d wanna try it out”, Deadlock announced suddenly from his work station, though his gaze remained on the pistol Springer had brought to him.

“Hm?” was all Perceptor replied.

“I said I’d wanna try to fire a sniper rifle”, the Decepticon repeated, this time looking at the red mech.

“Oh, right. Yes. I think that’s possible. When would you like to go and try?” Perceptor asked politely and gave Deadlock his full attention.

“Why not right now?” the other mech shrugged.

“I guess that’ll do.”

With that, the two mechs left the lab for the shooting range on the deck below.

\----

“I assume you’re aware of the basics of a sniper rifle, yes?”

An almost impatient nod.

Perceptor took his rifle out of its case and assembled it.

“Now, first you have to decide on the type of position you shoot. Since this is your first time, I suggest you lay down; the recoil won’t knock you down and aiming is easier.”

Taking in the instructions, Deadlock lay down on his front and waited for the other mech to hand over the rifle.

“Which hand is your trigger hand?”

“Right.”

“Place your hand on the trigger area. Do not shoot until I give you the order.”

The latter command came with an expert firmness.

“Now wrap your left arm around the butt of the rifle. That’ll reduce the power of the recoil.”

Perceptor straightened himself and checked the position of Deadlock’s body. Circling behind him, the red mech gave a nudge to the dark legs. “Spread them. Wider. Give yourself support.”

Deadlock did as was told, his fuel pump hammering in his audios. It’s been so long since he last handled a gun to shoot and now he was about to fire a sniper rifle. Needless to say he was excited.

“Take aim.”

The dark mech closed his left optic and peered through the scope, aiming dead center of the target.

“Permission to shoot. Fire at will.”

In-vent.

Ex-vent.

Hold.

The trigger was pulled back and a mighty roar echoed within the soundproof walls of the shooting range. The butt of the rifle punched Deadlock in the shoulder, nearly wedging itself between the seams but he didn’t care. All he felt was the sheer, raw power of the rifle hitting him in the face as the .50 caliber bullet left the barrel and rocketed to the target, piercing clean through and burying to the wall behind it.

“Discard the casing and safety on.”

Once the safety was on, Deadlock rose from the floor, his body shaking slightly from the experience, the energon in his veins rushing from the excitement. It felt almost like he had just had an overload, an overload without stimulation to his interface equipment. More of that, please!

“Can I do that again?” He sounded like a sparkling, a very eager one. The glimmer in his optics showed that child-like eagerness and almost innocence. Something Perceptor didn’t expect to see from the Decepticon.

“I permit one more shot.”

As soon as he heard the permission, Deadlock got back on the floor, ready to fire.

Once the red mech’s voice reached Deadlock’s audios, ‘Permission to shoot’, the dark mech pulled the trigger again and the loud roar bounced off the walls to rattle his core.

Before gathering himself from the floor, the Decepticon discarded the casing and put the safety on. Back on his feet, he gave the rifle to Perceptor who gave a quick look at it and then dissembled it, locking it away in the case.

“Let’s see how you faired”, suggested Perceptor and walked to the target, inspecting the results.

Two bullets, one hole.

He smiled.

“I see you have a sharp optic and a steady hand”, the red mech said as he showed the target to Deadlock.

The Autobot let Deadlock to take the used target off the mounting and throw it to the disposal unit. They were about to leave when the dark mech shoved Perceptor to the wall, his back hitting the wall, strong arms pressed firmly on both sides of his head, palms flat against the wall.

“Wha-”

“I want you.” The tone Deadlock’s voice had taken was dead serious, the words coming out with a deep rumble and naked desire.

Perceptor didn’t like the direction this was going and the other mech was way too close for his comfort. The bold and frank confession of one’s feelings always took Perceptor by surprise and to hear such words coming from a Decepticon even more. And _so soon_. Deadlock had been on board for four months, two days and eight hours. How can _anyone_ form deep feelings towards anyone in such short time, let alone to someone who’s on the opposite faction?

“Deadlock, stop it. This is a violation of personal integrity.”

Not getting any reply to that, the red mech tried to struggle his way to freedom but Deadlock blocked his way by pressing his body flush against the Autobot, feeling the rippling field, emitting waves of _confusion-need-stop-touch_.

The dark mech pressed closer, their lips nearly touching when Perceptor pushed him off and ran to the door, picking up the case.

Deadlock watched as the red mech disappeared through the door and to the lift, their gazes never meeting during that.

Had he just blown his chances?


	5. There (at the destination)

Perceptor hadn’t said a word to Deadlock since the day they visited the shooting range. How he could be so... so _stupid_ and such a _brute_? Of course the other mech would avoid him by any means necessary. Now that he remembered what he himself went through back in Rodion... Shuddering at the memories, the Decepticon tried to focus on repairing the gun but didn’t succeed. He dropped the screwdriver and buried his head into his left palm, thoughts mingling and confusing his processor.

It seemed the word of his stunt had reached the audios of the rest of the Autobots for the glares he earned every time when walking the corridors. The only one, who didn’t appear to be affected, was Kup. The teal mech offered him, if not direct support, then someone to talk to.

“If you’ve developed such feelings towards our Perceptor, then I suggest you to be easy and gentle on him. He’s an introvert and doesn’t show many emotions, especially emotions regarding love affairs”, the old-timer said as he and Deadlock sat in the lounge, “He’s sensitive when it comes to affection and attraction and all that relationship slag.”

“But how can I approach him when he doesn’t even look at me? The look on his face is... cold”, the youngster snapped, his hands curling into fists.

“I’d like to help but this is your mess and you have to solve it on your own. I have to go. Springer just commed me and he wants to see me in the bridge. Take care, lad.”

With that, the older mech rose from the couch and left Deadlock alone. The dark mech slumped deeper on the couch, cursing how everything he tried and was involved in, went to the Pit.

\----

“Do you want to talk about it?” the triple-changer asked from behind Perceptor.

The red mech stood in front of his work station, leaning on his arms he had placed on the desk, pondering for a moment before onlining his vocalizer. “I don’t see a reason to speak about it. It happened and that’s the end of it. It’d be irrelevant to harp on it.”

Perceptor’s voice was tired and cold, messaging he was done discussing the subject. It wasn’t like that was the first time he’d experienced someone coming too close. He was just tired everyone being overly protective over him and thinking he was made of glass and other fragile materials and that he couldn’t defend himself. Sure, he was a scientist, not built for combat but he could defend himself just fine. Though, it didn’t seem to sink into those thick heads.

Springer opened his mouth to say something but zipped it. “Well... if something comes to your mind, you know I’m available any time.”

The green mech exited the lab with heavy thoughts clouding his processor. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take this Decepticon on board, after all...

\----

A week – not a word from Perceptor.

Three weeks – still nothing.

A month. What do you know – zilch.

This silent treatment was getting utterly ridiculous and Deadlock made it clear by acting snappier and more aggressive than before – his way of showing frustration. Now if he just had a room full of Autobots and a gun...

Why did he care about some Autobot’s feelings in the first place? It... it didn’t make any sense!

Deadlock spent most of his time – when not repairing broken weaponry – in the shooting range, having some much needed venting, doing something he did the best.

He aimed for the target, taking his time before emptying the magazine, making the target look more like a sieve. Once the echo of the gun firing faded, though his audios kept ringing, the dark mech relaxed his shoulders and let the held vent hiss through his vents.

“Tell me one good reason not to shoot you in the head”, he snarled, his optics still on the target.

“How does getting killed after that sound?” Springer shot back, standing at the threshold.

Switching the safety on and lowering the gun on the table, Deadlock turned around to face the Autobot, not pleased by the look he gave him.

“What?”

“Perceptor has been more drawn to himself than normal.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“You either sort things out with Perceptor or spend the rest of your miserable time in the brig.”

The Decepticon snorted at that, amused. “Like being in the brig would be any different to be outside one.”

“Is it? Here you have more privileges than a Decepticon should, especially a Decepticon like you. If I were you, I wouldn’t blow my chances.”

Deadlock’s field faltered at that. “A Decepticon like me?” he hissed, his fingers digging into his palms, “Decepticon like me? Listen now, Autobot. Somehow being here has started changing me. Yes, I’m still your enemy but I have no intends to run back to Turmoil and be his SIC or any other’s subordinate for that matter. Dare I say I’ve started enjoying it here. Do you really want the peace you have on this Primus forsaken ship gone by my blind rage?” he said, his optics now locked with Springer’s.

“I’m not the one who’s about to snap. Keeping the peace between us is up to you. You decide if it’ll last. If you decide to go on a rampage, we’ll kill you. I suggest you keep your temper down and talk with someone.”

With that, the triple-changer walked away, leaving Deadlock to stand by the gun table.

He remained silent for a moment before lashing out and kicking the table, knocking it down, the gun and the empty magazines clattering on the floor.

\----

Perceptor really was drawn to himself. He barely said anything to his team mates and definitely ignored any interactions with Deadlock. Sure it was childish but he tended to be immature when it came down to things like this when his feelings had been hurt and what the dark mech had done, was a good reason to act like he did.

The air in the lab was depressing and thick with tension. Perceptor was focused on his current project and Deadlock was hunched over a rifle Sandstorm had brought for its weekly basic maintenance.

The dark mech took a quick glance at the Autobot every now and then, feeling a rumbling growl bubbling in his engine but managing to keep it down. Though, eventually, the Decepticon had had enough and threw the rifle and the tools on the table with force and strode to Perceptor, the red mech not even flinching when the dark hands slammed on his table.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of this slag!”

Merely lifting his gaze to meet with Deadlock’s, Perceptor had a blank, emotionless expression on his face.

“What is it you want now?” the Autobot said, returning to his work as if nothing happened.

“An explanation. A full and complete one”, the dark mech growled, his optics blazing.

“About what?”

Oh, fffff- This behavior of Perceptor’s, this... always-calm-and-collected-never-show-a-damn-emotion façade the red mech was keeping up was infuriating Deadlock.

“About all this slag that’s been going on. Ever since you taught me how to shoot with your rifle you’ve been acting odd around me. Why?” he spat the question, his gaze locked to Perceptor’s hidden optics.

“I think it’s obvious, don’t you think?” was the calm reply.

That confused Deadlock. What?

Since the Decepticon didn’t seem to get the hint, Perceptor lowered the piece of circuitry on the table and gave the other mech his full attention. “If you don’t remember, allow me to brighten your memory”, the red mech spoke with an even voice, and continued while standing up, “It was you who decided to force yourself on me. It was you who decided to pin me against the wall and it was you who ruined his chances of ever gaining my trust.”

The last two words were emphasized with a jab on Deadlock’s chest.

“This is beyond unbelievable”, the dark mech huffed, throwing his hands up and turned to walk out.

“Do you always give up when it comes to something you don’t have the means to deal with?” the Autobot asked.

Deadlock stopped on his tracks. Do I give up...? Apparently yes – even now I’m about to walk away. He vented a heavy sigh, finally yielding to the situation. His gaze fell to the floor, his processor trying to say something.

When he couldn’t say anything, Deadlock sighed and simply walked out, leaving disappointed Perceptor behind.

The Decepticon made his way to the brigs and found the darkest corner possible and sat on the floor, curling around himself. When things didn’t go as Deadlock would’ve wished, this was his way of coping with things he couldn’t deal with. Frag everything and everyone!

He didn’t hear anything as Whirl entered the brig deck. He had seen Deadlock and had become curious and followed him.

“What did you do this time?” Whirl’s voice was surprisingly gentle.

Deadlock startled at that, his fighting protocols awakening.

“No need to be like that. I’m here merely to know what’s going on with you. I saw you barging out of the lab.”

The dark mech remained quiet and settled back to his curled up position, nailing his gaze to the floor.

“Aw, come on. Anyone can clearly see something’s bugging you. Since there’s no one else here, you might as well talk to me, right?”

Still Deadlock didn’t say anything.

“Does it have something to do with Percy?”

A twitch.

“Aah, I see. Lovers’ quarrel. Well, I’m not good with these kinds of things but I’ll do my best.”

With that, Whirl lunged towards Deadlock, the other mech reacting immediately but a tad too late, the Autobot managing to lock one of his pinchers around Deadlock’s neck, pinning him to the wall.

“Here’s the thing, Deadlock”, the ‘copter rumbled, his vents huffing, his optic blazing bright, “I like Perceptor very much as a friend, and that’s telling much, and I don’t like to see him miserable. He’s fond of you – which is, like, veeeery unheard of – and what you did to him wasn’t very nice.”

Whirl loosened his grip on Deadlock’s neck but kept close. “So do us all a favor and apologize.”

The Decepticon’s optics flashed brighter blue. “What?”

“Apologize to him”, the Wrecker repeated.

That was all Whirl said and let go, turning his back to Deadlock and left the brig deck. He gave the dark mech a lot to think about. Decepticons didn’t apolo- yes, yes, he knew his situation; he wasn’t with Decepticons anymore. But still!

He raised himself from the floor and chewed over the words Whirl had just said to him. Maybe it was indeed the best if he just swallowed up his pride for once and surrendered to the flow that was taking him onwards towards the unknown.

His processor tried to come up with the proper words he was about to blurt out, his legs taking him back to the lab without him really realizing it. He stepped in and hesitated at the door.

“Uh... Perceptor...” His legs moved on their own and brought him to the red mech now turned to face him.

“Yes?”

Oh, why this had to be so hard?! Deadlock wrung his hands nervously, his optics casted downwards.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this but... I apologize for my stupidity. I apologize for what I did”, he said meekly, avoiding optic contact.

The Decepticon flinched slightly when he heard Perceptor walking close until he saw the black feet in front of his own ones. Then, he felt two fingers under his chin, guiding his face up. Perceptor’s expression was serene, a small smile finding its way on the pale gray face.

“It’ll take me time to trust you again but I’m more than glad you apologized”, he said softly, “It’s a good start”, he added and pressed his lips against Deadlock’s, taking the other by surprise.

Bringing a hand to the finial, the red mech rubbed the base until he had a purring Decepticon in front of him, optics closed to dimly glowing slits and head tilted towards the warm palm. Perceptor’s smile got slightly bigger. “It’s nice to see you like this”, he admitted, both to himself and Deadlock.

Deadlock kept his optics closed and took the Autobot’s hand, planting a kiss to the palm. Pulling the Autobot closer, he tugged his face under Perceptor’s chin, pressing his lips against the neck. He could feel the other mech tense, the field around him flaring and contracting. “May I?” he murmured, his tongue already peeking out.

Perceptor bit down on his lip before wrapping his arms around Deadlock’s middle, granting him the permission to continue. “Yes.”

What the scientist felt, was a hesitant lick followed by an incredibly soft kiss to his neck cable which sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Oh...” was all he managed to utter as more gentle nips and kisses were given, the Decepticon making his way up until their lips met, at first shyly but as they both gathered more courage, they were soon sharing bolder kisses, tongues running and gliding against each other, giving anyone witnessing a great amount of small peeks of their tongues moving together.

Perceptor didn’t know how they managed to get to his berth or how they ended up with him lying on top of Deadlock, his back turned to the other but he certainly didn’t complain – not when they were about to do one of the most biggest taboos that would happen between an Autobot and a Decepticon.

“D-Deadlock!” the red mech gasped as the spike was sunk in, the girth spreading the mesh walls, the underused port giving Deadlock a tight fit, the friction feeling so good.

The Decepticon buried himself to the hilt and once he hit home, he nuzzled the side of the dark head, kissing the surface.

Perhaps it was time to leave the former life behind.

“Call me Drift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I finished this! *faints*
> 
> I hope y'all liked reading this story. :')


End file.
